“No, nothing like that. We just don’t need it.” Dorsey was honest-to-God trying not to sound smug, but his sister’s eyebrows still rose, and she shimmied her shoulders. “We text like every day.” Again, it came off like a brag.

“You sound very pleased with yourself,” Gigi said.

He couldn’t help but feel a tiny flick of pride. A woman had a continual interest in him that didn’t start and stop at his bank account. Liza asked him about his bent pinky, confessed that she didn’t really like mambo sauce but pretended to, and sent him articles about the eviction crisis. Whatever they were doing—these text diaries—it was the longest thing he’d ever had. He didn’t want to do anything to upset this tender equilibrium.

Dorsey tried to sound casual. “I’m going to ask her to dance.” He let the words hang.

His sister froze and caught his eye in the mirror.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking. I’m going to ask someone to dance in public in front of everyone.”

“Datu, you’re going to try to dance and make conversation?” Her incredulous look was way over the top.

“Gigi, don’t turn this into a big deal, I’m nervous enough.”

“You’re turning it into a big deal, not me. Does she know about the dancing thing?”

“Of course not. Why would I tell her about Camp Sunshine?”

“You said you two talk every day.”

“Not about that,” he said, closing the Tiffany box over the book.

Camp Sunshine was a sleepaway camp they’d gone to every summer during their early adolescence. In the cooling last days of summer, the camp held a dance. Thirteen-year-old Dorsey had finally set his mind on asking a girl to dance. Everything went well until he was pressed a little too tightly against Katani Sanders. After they separated, he had a tent in his pants for the whole camp to see. To add insult to injury, her heavy diamond hooped earring slipped out of her ear and connected with his pants, giving his hard-on a disco-ball effect in the strobing lights. To a subset of children in Philadelphia’s Chestnut Hill enclave, he would always be Disco Dick.

That night also started a long and complex relationship with his right hand that Liza had recently reignited.

Gigi slapped his hands away and rearranged his tie. “I hope you can pull this off. I need her to like me. I’ve been trying to manifest powerful sisterhood.”

Dorsey straightened his back. Gigi had never looked up to anyone he was interested in. His little sister was his whole family now, but he was still surprised by how good it felt for Gigi to like Liza this much. “Just don’t be yourself,” he smiled at her eye roll. “She’ll love you.”